


Playing House

by Denzer, RedRoseWhite



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Contraception, Cunnilingus, During Canon, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Masturbation, Men Crying, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denzer/pseuds/Denzer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite/pseuds/RedRoseWhite
Summary: Rey and Kylo Ren are enemies, on opposing sides of a raging war, but there is a connection between them that can only be soothed with intimacy. If they want to find some happiness, they have to find a way to be together. Even if it isn't real.Reylo Smutember 2020: Breeding kink.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 70
Kudos: 207
Collections: Reylo Smutember 2020





	1. Chapter 1

There’s an image of a very enthusiastic Twi’lek swinging on some long, buttery noodles, printed on the side of the takeaway bag. Rey stares at the garish colours reflected on the shiny panel that controls the lift and loathes the way she feels right before she gets there, this clawing eager longing to be done with liminal travel, to just arrive. The bag swings and bumps as the lift comes to a halt, she can feel the warmth of the food through her leggings. The hallway seemed generic and anonymous the first few times, but now familiarity creeps in as she leaves the lift. Rey tries the door but it’s locked. She’s first. First time on the keypad, she presses the wrong thing. The second time, she’s trying to be more deliberate and doesn’t go fast enough. The third one, where she puts down the bag and wipes her palm on her thigh, works. As soon as Rey is through the door, the lights come on. She closes the door, locks it, and efficiently removes all of her clothing except her basics, stowing her weapons at the back of the closet that is just to the right of the front door. 

The closet usually holds one grey dress with plain sleeves and a middle length. If that dress is in there when Kylo Ren opens the door, he touches its softness with one compulsive stroke. There is one pair of dark blue trousers, and one white shirt with short sleeves. A shoe rack with eight shoes, two pairs of flimsy slippers and two pairs of sturdy plain shoes, suitable for walks on Chandrilan side streets. Two charcoal-coloured cloaks made simple but fine. Two empty hangers. No matter what day or what time it is, two hangers inside the closet will always be empty. The grey dress goes on, her other clothes get hung up, and she trades her boots for slippers. Before she gathers the food up to take it to the kitchen, Rey unlocks the door. 

The apartment and everything in it are paid for by Kylo Ren. He’s never lived there. 

The decor is cloud-white walls and mundane mauve-grey carpet, but the furniture is nice: a rich ocean-blue couch, yellow pots for the plants near the sliding door to the balcony. 

The living space is one big open room. A kitchen is defined by a line of cabinets, a dull slate island, and a refrigerator along the back-right wall. Nearby is one homey table big enough for four people, with two place mats. The first time Rey saw it, she thought she was going to puke. She wanted it and she didn’t. Sick with not wanting to want.

On the left, just beyond the couch, is an archway to the bedroom. The sheets on the bed are soft and green. If you asked Rey what her favourite colour was, she’d say it was that, but she’s never actually chosen a favourite colour, because she hasn’t seen them all yet. How would she know?

The temperature in the room is kept steady. The curtains, gauzy and cream, open and close of their own accord, depending on the hour.

While she is pulling forks for their food from the drawer, Kylo Ren comes in. The room is silent except for the sounds of their bodies moving at opposite sides of the room. Kylo removes his gloves, his black cloak. Clean water splashes out of the cold water tap into one glass. Rey turns her head so he’s not in her peripheral vision anymore when she fills the other glass. The extra filters make the stream run small and slow. The closet closes and Rey puts the drinks down carefully on the island, because Ben is going to put his arms around her like he always does, and she doesn’t want to get splashed. When he arrives, he holds her loosely enough that she can turn around to kiss him with a hum and a smile, and a squeeze where she can smell the cleanliness of his white shirt. It’s fresh and new, just like them.

“How was work?” she asks, just like always. 

“I caught two plagiarists and took the last package of nerf jerky from the vending machine at lunch,” Ben says. She can see his dimples. “Another exciting day at Chandrila U. You?”

His hands on her spine are a perfect fit. Their warmth seeps through her, envelops her heart like the dust of an asteroid field. It’s easy to talk to him like this, now that they’ve both had practice. 

“Infuriating. Marvus keeps fucking up the QMS reports. I told him that trying to sync them with the old system was a mistake.” Rey is hungry enough to break eye contact, step away from him, and walk to the table where their noodles are waiting. She’s already sitting, fork in hand, while Ben is still dragging his chair out with a leisurely arm. Dimples again. Fuck, he’s adorable, and he’s smiling because he enjoys her rants. So she keeps going. Whatever he likes, she’ll give him more of that. It’s why this place exists. It’s why they are here. To give each other what they want.

“We keep having the same problem with disintegrating gaskets, I’m convinced they manufactured them with the wrong grade of material. But we need the stats from the QMS to justify another production run on paper, so I can’t fix anything until Marvus fixes his shit.” Rey gestures with her fork in a twirl of frustration. Ben glances up at her, most of his expression hanging over the ledge of three noodle ends sticking out of his mouth. 

“Meanwhile, because of the gaskets there's not enough suction to get the pressure up in the engines, so nothing is getting off the ground. It's a nightmare. Mmmff, at least... these noodles are good.” 

Rey watches her husband chew and swallow. 

“Lyn’Valla’s is the best noodle stand in Hanna City. We’re lucky to live nearby.” He takes a sip of water and they both just eat instead of talking. These moments used to feel like walking into an unexplored cave, but they’re getting more comfortable. Rey wonders if that isn’t its own reason to feel afraid. 

~*~

The first time is a pre-dawn skirmish on a back-water moon. She’s felt him before, of course, he hadn’t left her much choice in the matter, being so open all the time, and he’d phased-in whenever she wasn’t paying attention. She’d gotten a flicker of him training while she’d been eating dinner, the hulking shape of him sitting at the end of her bed when she was too tired to hold him out, the constant tapping at the metal of her mind like a Steelpecker. But now he’s real, standing less than a klick away, a practised arc of crackling saber as he strides from the gangplank of his ship into the fray. And Rey can’t move.

There’s blaster fire to her left, the ground shudder of a strafing run to take out a squad of flanking stormtroopers behind her. She watches him reach up and bend his elbow over his head to take off his cracked mask, one-handed. There’s an ocean of fallen soldiers between them, gouged earth and swells of screaming that rise and fade with the wind. He’s not moving either, statue-still in the middle of a live battlefield. His face is blurred by particle mist, but Rey can feel the pressure of his stare in the rush of her hammering blood. Her whole body feels tight under the weight of it.

If she wanted to, she could touch him, hold her hand over his lips as she had in the throne room, to check for breath. She could feel the soft give of dry flesh under her fingertips, know for certain whether he would bite or kiss her skin. If she wants that, all she has to do is run.

She shifts her weight, her right foot lifting from the flattened grass, and his arm comes up. His fingers clench and Rey throws up a shield, fighting the burn of betrayal that she knows she shouldn’t feel. It’s just, she didn’t think he would try to hurt her, not really.

Relief floods her, steadying as ballast, when she realises he’s not aiming at her. On her right, a dull clatter of a Z6 and the trooper wielding it falls. The momentum of his run at her tumbles him forward, skidding to a rest at her ankle. Kylo looks at his own hand, drops it slowly to his side.

Before he can raise his eyes to her, Rey turns and runs. She won’t look back.

~*~

At first, right after Crait, he did it out of self-loathing, which was the most familiar and habitual reason he had. Kylo left his side of the bond open all the time, even though it was raw. Sometimes if he was winning at the day’s spar, one of the knights would try to pinch or yank it, like an exposed nipple, but it was a nebulous thing they barely had access to. In his dreams Kylo would see a luminous convor flying around and through it, this back door to whatever he had where a soul would be. A hallway that led to nothing and nowhere. It was like that for weeks. Until she showed up while he was cleaning his teeth.

“I don’t want to rule the galaxy,” Rey said quietly. Kylo took the toothbrush out and rinsed it, and even though he was finished he didn’t turn around. “But I do want you.”

In the mirror he saw her over his shoulder, her body folded up and tense. Her fingers were clenching in the first layer of her clothes and her mouth in her pale face was working, as if she could say it backwards and take it back. Every response he thought of was unfitting.

They made eye contact in the mirror and Kylo told her; “There isn’t a place in this universe for what you and I are, together.” The connection he felt to her surged, as if his attempt to deny it was an insult. A snake made of light that was rearing as soon as he aimed the arrow. It was huge and it would swallow him. _Find a way,_ he thought. Rey was gone but it was something he could think over in his bed. 

~*~

The second time she sees him in the flesh, Rey is ready. It’s a green planet: Luse - she only remembers the names of the green ones. The battlefield sprays clumps of grassy earth as a blockade fire-run from the Star Destroyer in the atmo above swallows the space between them.

He jumps the deep gouge, deflecting a bolt of laser fire in a display of skill that makes her yearn before his feet even hit the ground. And then he’s down, bent kneed and pushing up to stomp toward her with a deep frown that tells her he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he reaches her. She makes it easier on him, sinking into an offensive crouch and attacking before he’s breached battle-distance. 

It’s so much easier than letting herself feel. After last time, Rey knows she can’t afford to make that mistake again. She bares her teeth, pushing at the blade-lock, Forcing-shoving with sharp dips in intensity to throw him off balance. She can’t hold this position for long, even with the Force strumming through her veins. He steps into her, his foot dead-center in the middle of her stance, traction for turning the sabres away from them.

Shoulder to shoulder, wrists aching, thighs screaming, harsh breath and tight grimace. He’s so close she can feel the strain of his bicep against his arm wrap.

She should have anticipated the sweep of his leg, she’d felt the curve of his knee against the back of her own as he’d dipped to match her stance. But he’d distracted her, turning his chin to ghost his lips along the hem of her tunic, the bare skin of her arm, burning. He’d squeezed his eyes shut and then, he’d flipped her.

Rey falls hard, saber de-igniting. There’s the hollow sound of her breath as she tries to inhale into a spasming chest. His sword lowers a fraction, a shaking grip on the hilt. She might not be able to breathe but her legs still work and she still has the Force. She hooks her foot around his ankle and sweeps her arm in a wave. Kylo crashes down beside her. Their legs are tangled and Rey’s momentum throws her into him. Her forehead connects with his ribs and he grunts. Instantly, like it was always meant to be there, his hand is on her back. A warm, agonising burst and she can breathe again, inhaling leather and smoke and, faintly, soap.

She’s touching him, her hand rises and falls with the movement of his chest as she steadies herself. He doesn't rise, even when she reaches back and calls her saber. Instead of trying to stop her, the hand on her back presses, drawing her into him. 

She feels the bubbling in her chest and she’s helpless to stop it. It comes out hard, half-laugh, half-sob, and so much louder that the battle. The leather creaks as Kylo tenses. 

Rey yanks herself free of him, jumps the gorge from a crouch so she won’t look at his face. Beyond it, a Tie screeches into the ground and the explosion knocks her back. She barely makes the leap. She lands hard and he must hear her shout, see her stumble, because he doesn’t follow, doesn’t even stand. His hand is outstretched again, holding back the flames, clearing the path she’ll take to leave him in the dirt.

Later, in the briefing room, she’ll lie to General Organa about how long she had stood there wavering, not fighting, not fleeing, not answering comms. She’ll give her report, chin high, and gloss over their fight, presenting it as a brief clash. The truth is, she doesn’t know how long she waited, just watching Leia’s son. In that small, post-battle run-down, Rey will learn that she is an excellent liar. 

~*~

He was reading a datapad when the world fell away and she was meditating before him, on a hump of cream coloured fabric he supposed was her bed. Focusing on healing some tenderness in her leg that had happened when she’d missed the jump.

“I have an idea,” he told her. Even though it wasn’t the sort of thing anyone thought Kylo would say, Rey didn’t even open her eyes. He stared at the wisps of hair above her ears and shored up his faith that she would listen to him. 

“We can’t be together if we’re us. So, let’s not be us.”

One eye opens.

“I told you there was no place for us. I made one.” He grabbed the bit of paper from the spot on his desk next to the datapad dock.

Both eyes now, and she took the paper. He noticed her chest heave.

“If you go there, Ben will meet you.” Kylo’s voice cracked at the name, but it was necessary. She had to come, she couldn’t say no. This was the best bait he had and it wasn't even a trap. He suddenly knew he wouldn’t bear it if she said no. He’d burn everything he could touch and get the knights to help him. 

“Ben,” Rey whispered, staring at the address as if she wanted to climb inside the curves and lines of the black marks on the white flimsi. 

“He’s a professor at Chandrila University,” Kylo said in one breath that came rushing out so quickly it made his stomach try to run up along with it.

“He’s married to a woman named Rey who works on a spacecraft assembly line. He’s never met a Jedi. He doesn’t know what The Force is, and he doesn’t care.”

“What does he teach?” Rey asked, finally moving to look away from the paper and at him. Curious and smiling. Before he could try to touch her cheek and kiss her like he wanted to, he was all alone. 

~*~

Once the noodles are eaten, Ben washes the dishes in his quiet methodical way. He’s so good at keeping things tidy; meanwhile Rey will leave her empty cup on the console table and not think to put it by the sink until morning. She leaves her boots pigeon-toed in the closet, one stacked on the other, teetering sideways. Sometimes she doesn’t flush after she pees. 

The sound of the dishcloth splashing in the sink is rhythmic and soothing. Rey is in the bedroom, pulling her underwear off and putting it into the empty drawer. She wishes she had a nightgown, but she keeps forgetting to ask for one. When the dishwater is drained and the curtains have closed on the city view, Ben will come in here and kiss her. His mouth will grasp and take hers, and she’ll let it, because they're just a married couple who live on Chandrila and there is nothing keeping them from loving each other. He’ll cage and herd her limbs onto their bed, and then he’ll use his mouth to make her come at least once to get her wet and ready for him, twice if she’ll let him, and then she’ll take control and mount his body and pull pleasure out of it that wraps around them both like a cocoon. Blindingly safe, comforting, soft at the edges. Like every other time. 

“Sorry,” Ben mumbles when his cock scrunches and slips out of Rey again. Trying to tighten around and grip him just pushed him out. Don’t hurt his feelings, she thinks while she shifts on her knees, don’t roll your eyes or huff. Rey needs him inside her, raging and hard, but he can’t meet the occasion tonight. He won't look at her, even though when her hair is down like this and she’s kneeling over him he usually can’t stop looking. It’s all crumbling into misery and failure and it’s wrong, because this is the only place where they can have this. Reality creeps in, too close. So Rey leans down to Ben’s upturned ear and pours a fantasy over him, shoving the real world as far away as she can. Promising the most impossible, outrageous and extravagant thing, here in their green bed of soft, lush sheets.

“Ben,” she whispers. She licks her lips and lets the emotion flow through her voice. “Give me a baby.” It only takes a moment for the words to connect, a pause and then he’s getting harder again, she can feel the tingling rush under his skin from the other side, as if his blood were fizzing. His body shifts and his hands come alive and he turns his head. Ben looks at her mouth, urging her on, and she picks it up and says hoarsely; “Fill me up, shove it deep inside. I want a baby with you Ben, only you.” 

“Gods,” He murmurs, and only needs to grasp and stroke his cock twice before she can feel him rub the tip against her slit with enough hardness behind it to penetrate her. 

“Aaahh,” Rey sighs while she slides down on it, achingly full, pulled to a stretch that she tugs against by clenching again, and the tension makes her stomach flip. This is what she wanted. And now she knows what Ben wants, too. She leans over and presses kisses to his jaw and his neck, relishing the sharpness of his barely-there stubble on her tongue, a feeling she loves. The scent of Ben is here and on the pillow and even though Rey has had her fill of it now, she doesn’t pull back yet, because she knows she isn’t ready for the hunger on his face. She closes her eyes and finds his lips with hers, tender and warm. 

~*~

Her knees keep trying to drift together. It's unfriendly and sterile in here and Rey doesn't want to open her legs, but she needs to. Her kneecaps hover apart again while she tells herself to focus, breathe, relax. 

“I'm going to touch you now,” Doctor Sintsyr says. “You’ll feel my hand, and then the insertion of the device in your uterus. There may be some discomfort.” 

There is pain; pinching, burning, and after, cramps. Three days of cramps. On the second-to-last time Rey needs to snail-curl on her bed to ride it out, Kylo appears next to her, and silently draws swirls of light touches on her upper back with the very tips of his fingers, until the Force winks him away. 

~*~

The first time they were together in this bed, he wanted to smash his own shyness just like he destroyed every other vulnerability. She’d been shameless at being nude for his eyes and knowing her own body. He thought he'd levitate with his own trembling and uncertainty but she was solid and warm like a cube of sugar in the sun. They were kissing, he was still in shorts and she was naked, working her own hand between her legs. 

He’d asked “What you are doing? ” and she'd panted, “Getting ready for you. Feels good.” He liked watching the patterns her fingers made, pressing down on the pink bud and swirling it, then a long searching swipe down to her opening and back up. He saw her thin, wrinkled inner lips unstick from her plump outer ones as she ran her gooey fingertip between them. 

“See,” she said softly, between catching breaths, “I’m opening up to take you inside,” and then she used one hand to hold her lips open and the other deftly fucked herself with two fingers, pressing in to make the flesh just above her asshole give a shiny stretch while the pink folds around her clit puckered and scrunched. Watching and thinking about his cock doing that to her body, pressing and spreading and moulding her, almost made him come right there. It took a few times before Ben was able to take Rey on her knees, or on her back with her legs up, because just seeing her pussy bloom open while his cock pushed inside made him spill faster than they both wanted. It's why he usually has her get on top, now. This way, it's easier to hold back. He’ll lose himself staring at the way her eyelashes kiss her cheeks, the tooth at the front of her mouth that you can only tell is a bit crooked when you look from a certain angle. The curve of her shoulder and the fragrant curtain of her hair. It still feels good, better than anything he can name. He laces his fingers with hers and wraps his arms around her, pressing the backs of her hands to the dimples that bookend her spine. Her elbows turn outward and he holds them there, like wings. 

~*~

She thinks of it in two phases now. Before Chandrila, and after. This battle is close to Coruscant and the proximity brings its own form of torture. Rey can’t risk feeling for him to see if he hurts too.

Instead, she dips her wing and sails beneath Poe, looping under him to fire at the line of TIEs bearing down on his ship. There’s a call over the com, a whoop from Finn and a “Girl’s got style!” from Poe that makes her purse her lips.

“Woman,” she comms back, “Woman’s got style.”

She doesn’t have style, not at all. Kylo picked her dress for her, chose her shoes and slippers and everything else. Things that aren’t Rey’s but that fit her so perfectly, all without her input. She wouldn’t have wanted to buy them herself. Kylo taking care of everything practical made it easier for her to pretend.

“Rey, your left!”

She swerves, laser-fire hitting the back quadrant of her shields and she’s out of this fight, limping back to the _Appenza_ for repairs before the whole thing blows. Poe covers her, trailing a line of fire in her wake. She only feels Kylo when her X-wing stops mid-flight.

A tractor beam, wrenching her from space, dragging her ship toward the largest opening of the _Finalizer_. She fights the controls, diverts power from the remnants of her shields, the navigation system, co-ops 90% of her life-support. But she can’t break the beam’s hold.

In seconds, she’s close enough to see him. He’s standing at the edge of the bay, black helmet at his feet, unmoved by the stream of TIEs shooting by him into the battle. In the blue light of the force field that shields the docking bay from the void, his scar looks pinker than it really is. Fifteen standard days ago she had brought her mouth to that scar, tasting salt as he panted onto her cheek. His hand had wrapped the back of her neck, driving her down harder. She hadn’t known how good it could feel to watch someone cry.

His face is passive now, no smile, no frown, and he won’t look away as her ship edges toward the bay. She fiddles with buttons she knows won’t help her, pulls fiercely at the yokes with whitened knuckles and gritted teeth. With a shout, she sits back, meets his steady gaze and her heart thumps against her breastbone, pulling hard in her chest like it had when he’d first kissed her.

“We got you, Rey!” Connix, spiralling outside the beam, deftly lining her sights. The funnel of light behind Kylo bursts as her aim hits true. Rey can feel the jolt of the beam dying, the shudder of her ship as the engines are freed.

He is still standing, wide-legged now so he doesn’t lose his balance. She checks him over, searching for any sign he’s hurt. Then just looking, without thought.

“Rey! Get out of there!”

With a jerk, she pulls away and Blue Squadron lines her way home.

~*~

Failure feeds disappointment which feeds longing which feeds failure, like a snake eating its own tail. Sometimes Kylo’s longing wends around him and squeezes and strangles until he's certain that one of them will have to die; either the snake, or him. But he’s never strong enough to kill it, he just suffers until he gets so tired from hurting that he goes numb, and the longing will grow quiet again, until it wakes up and garrottes him once more. He never knows when that will be. It's never happened before when he was in the apartment. The serpent awakens and slithers over him and he can't even enjoy the warm wet slide of Rey; he does not deserve to feel this complete, what could he even give her. Rey is a crate that spills out nightblossoms, Heart-Of-Fire, meryx and honey. What does Kylo have inside? Crimes, handfuls of filth, power that maims and burns holes in living things. A pain so great, that when he cracked his crystal, it could not be contained by a regular hilt. Every single time he lights his saber, he’s reminded of how forcefully it bleeds. 

“Give me a baby,” Rey says, and there is love and conviction in her voice, somehow. It draws him in. He wants her to keep going, keep weaving this new spell.

“Fill me up, shove it deep inside. I want a baby with you Ben, only you.” The thought of that banishes his loathing. Kylo is quiet and floating at the back of his mind like a cloud. His sweet wife is open and willing, and Ben is going to spill his seed into her womb and give her what she wants. While she is buying noodles for their dinner or analyzing the gaskets at her work or walking the streets of Hanna City or wrapped in his arms with her tongue licking his, life will flare into being inside her. When she feels its presence, she will carry a secret happiness until there's a moment that she can grasp Ben's full attention, and when she tells him, the joy will be something they can pass back and forth, equally shared.

“Gods,” Ben sighs. He’s back with her and the snake is gone because it's not a part of Ben. There is no pain, just his love for her and their shared dream of making a child, uncomplicated, natural, sweet. He steps on Kylo’s neck with the strength of a conqueror and lives fully for just this moment, making love to his Rey. It’s a shock, to get so hard so fast, just because of a fantasy. The softness of Rey’s lips finds his, and this kiss makes Ben’s heart swollen and heavy. The way she holds herself above him with agile ease reminds him of how strong she is. She could be dancing in a silver gown on Cantonica, frowning at an ancient holocron, hauling herself up to the very top of the Origin Tree, but she is here, welcoming him inside her body, wanting him. A tear escapes his eye and runs along the trough of his scar. She chases it with her mouth, catching it up on the very tip of her gentle tongue. 

“Hey,” She whispers, rearing up to gaze at him. “Ben, it’s ok.” She isn’t moving, just has him fitted inside her, raw and hot. Her hands are resting gracefully like two lilies on his chest.

“Yeah,” He says, closing his eyes, feeling more tears seep. Ben waits while she hovers over him like a visiting angel for one moment more, then he clasps his hand on the back of her neck, shoving her down and his hips up. “Just - fuck - need to come.” 

Rey falls over him and writhes on top, soft moans trailing from her throat, kissing away every trace of salt from his face. Ben can feel his breath bouncing back at him, wreathing his mouth while he pants against Rey’s cheek. They work up to a galloping pace together, Ben clutches her thighs and Rey squirms her hand between them to stroke her clitoris. He comes first, his hollow desperate breath stuttering in her ear. The sounds he makes and the heated spill of his semen excite her. She clenches and moans again, louder. 

“Help me, help me,” Rey begs, toppling clumsily to the mattress. She’s wriggling blindly until Ben scoops his arms under and around her, pressing her spine up against his chest. He clutches her breast in one hand, and the other one slides down her belly, slithers between her thighs. His touch is rough and searching as it ploughs and parts her folds. He presses two fingers hard on her slippery swollen clit, rubbing in circles, pulling her down to drown in a climax that shakes her so hard she goes breathless.

In the darkness of their bedroom, wrapped in calm quiet, Ben’s fingers comb through her hair. 

“That was…” he whispers, trailing off. There are no words, just feelings. Ben isn't supposed to use the bond because he’s just an archeology professor who doesn't know how The Force works or what it's for, besides lifting rocks and winning wars that he’s only read about and never seen. But he really wants Rey to think about the moment she's standing in a noodle shop and a drifting blossom of cells comes to rest on the nurturing wall of her womb, miraculous and sweet.

“Yeah,” Rey whispers back, nuzzling her cheek against his chest more tightly. “Yeah.” 

~*~

Usually, changing his clothes is all he needs to be Ben, but tonight it’s not enough. He can’t forget losing her to Blue Squadron. He had so many dreams in those moments in the docking bay, was going to put her in his quarters and let her pound his chest with her fists until their mutual hatred of him was spent. Then Kylo Ren was going to run his hands all over Rey the Jedi, over and under her clothes, until she melted and let him kiss the breath from her, and he would finally look into eyes that wanted him, as he was. Then some Resistance rat broke the tractor beam, and he was left alone, again. 

The tide of longing that carries him to their apartment feels stronger than ever, and the frustration of being thwarted gives him a sharp edge. This time, he takes his cloak and his gloves and his weapon and stows them in the closet, but no matter what he strips off, he can’t escape himself. Rey gasps when Kylo presses her down on the mattress by the nape of her neck. His other hand strokes her pussy with two fingers, she says “Too rough, Ben!” So he licks them, touches her more softly. The muscles in her back gather and meld, like flocks of little animals. He mounts and fucks her from behind, using his grip on her hips to shove her onto him and leaning right over to cover her. 

“Mine, mine, you’re fucking mine,” he growls viciously to the tender back of her neck, pinching her hard while he comes. She stays on her stomach after he pulls out to finish herself off by riding her hand. He pictures his cum pooling around the strings that trail from her cervix. This time, they both ignore his tears. 

There’s no next time.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you prefer a bittersweet ending, you can skip this epilogue and leave the ending of Playing House as it is.
> 
> If you want a saccharine TRoS fix-it with fluff and an HEA for this story, enjoy this epilogue!

Trudgen and Ushar were the only ones who didn’t help, on Exegol. They’d been in for too long, and they could not turn their fealty from Kylo Ren to Ben Solo. Vicrul had been the first to stand with him out of loyalty, and Ap’lek out of survival. Cardo had followed because he was young and in love with Ben and Kuruk had followed because he had no loyalty at all to anyone and it was all the same to him. Their strength together had sliced through every threat, including Trudgen and Ushar, and defended Ben from the Sith Eternal until the project of Darth Sidious was dust. Rey was injured and weak and Ap’lek had gone to gather her up, but Ben wouldn’t let anyone else carry her. Her unconscious form in his arms was the only thing that kept the Resistance from shooting him when they saw him, for fear of hitting her. Ap’lek wondered if Ben had known, but then he remembered the look on the other man’s face as he cradled the young Jedi. There was no scheming and no guile. Only elation, wonder, and love.

It doesn’t take long for Cardo and Vicrul to shed their armour, once they settle on Naboo. Vicrul learns about the pH of the soil and takes a liking to the native snails; Cardo teaches the locals combat techniques in exchange for money, occasionally barters for essentials, like food and wine. One year after the day when they watched Ap’lek and Kuruk lift off in the Buzzard to a life of freedom among the stars, Vicrul stands at the edge of the lake. As Ben and Rey approach, walking with happy ease together among the flowers that line the footpaths, he works at the rope around the nearby tree. 

“So, what’s the big secret?” Rey asks Vicrul. It still feels like a pleasant surprise whenever he gets a smile from her; he thanks the Maker that after everything, this is the place where his life took shape. 

“Here,” he says, placing the rope in Rey’s hand. Her eyes follow it, and so do Ben’s, to where it’s securely knotted on a small but well-crafted wooden skiff, floating in the water. There is silence for a moment, just the breeze and the sound of lapping waves. 

“I built it. As a gift. For you.”

Ben rushes forward, kneels on the shore, clutches the prow of it in both hands. He examines it carefully, then gingerly steps in. Rocks it a little by shifting his weight. Sits down. 

“Come my love, it’s safe,” he says. Vicrul’s feelings aren’t hurt by the test. It’s what he would have done, too. 

They take turns rowing. When Rey doesn’t have an oar in hand, she dips her fingers into the surface of the lake, marvelling at the chill that creeps, the reflections of the clouds above, at the inky darts of life that flee from the ripples they make.

Ben catches a dreamy sideways look on her face that is framed by a scalloped cloud behind her head. The sunlight is slanting into gold as the afternoon kneels toward evening. It’s almost time for them to row this gift to the steps that lead back to Varykino, to secure it to the pile there and ascend toward their dinner table, their bread rolls and their wine.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” Ben asks.

“You’ve fallen behind on your meditating,” Rey says loftily. “You need to hone your skills.” 

“You keep trying to sit on my lap when I settle in,” He insists.

“Then get up and do it in the morning, while I’m busy practicing my forms.” Because her nose is in the air, it’s the first thing to get wet when he sends a splash of lake water flying.

It’s been three days and Ben still won’t get up early to try meditating, he is soft, like an academic from Chandrila, like a prince. When Rey whips the covers up and dives back into bed next to him, still in her soft training leggings but with much colder feet, he pretends to grumble and move away, but her hips coax their way into his hands and soon they are snuggling among the pillows. The sweet plains-grass scent of Rey’s hair is everywhere. Her body is warm, and Ben feels a peaceful hum all over, like water flowing through a fountain. They both breathe long, sleepy breaths, and Rey keeps letting out soft noises, then puts the hem of the sheet over her face and playfully makes it flap by blowing hard, as if she’s trying to get kindling to catch. They both giggle.

“What are you doing?” Ben says through his smile, scooping her closer, trying to roll her into a kiss. She puts up playful resistance with her hands on his chest, leans away, laughs harder, and says, 

“Playing. Having fun. Thinking how stupid you are about to feel for not practicing your connection to the Force.”

He finally closes in far enough to give her kisses that she can’t escape by craning her neck, and it’s only once Ben’s tasted her tongue that he takes her bait. A little quid pro quo.

“Explain why it’s smarter to force myself out of bed to do stodgy meditation, than to get another hour of sleep on these pillows, dreaming of you,” he murmurs against her neck, which smells more like vanilla than the rest of her, somehow.

He can’t see Rey roll her eyes, but he hears it, in perfect rhythm with the wet crackle of her smile. 

“Because maybe then you would sense our baby yourself, rather than me having to _tell_ you, you lazy arse,” she says with a squeeze to his shoulder. 

Ben feels like his chest has been stamped with an orbak hoof. The windedness grips him tight like his old snake, then it slips down and away, leaving him tingling and fizzing inside. _Begone_ , he thinks to it. _This is not your home anymore_. Ben pictures it slithering down the stairs like an oily shadow and disappearing into the lake where it can live with the other predators, and maybe learn how to belong. 

Rey is still smiling at him, but her eyes are searching his face. Is she worried that he is not happy? Of course he is. He’ll have to show her. So, with his whispering lips and his wandering fingertips and agile, insistent tongue, he does. 

That day, nobody gets out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Love_andbalance for looking this over before I showed it to the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as ever to my wonderful betas, [LittleLostStar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLostStar/), [AuroraReylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurorareylo/works) and [theresonatinglight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresonatinglight/works). And of course to my [Denzer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denzer/pseuds/Denzer/works), who agreed to collaborate. There is no... this... without all of you!


End file.
